239 Creation 19

Ahead of Lana’s position on the watchtower, the endless sea of their enemies seemed to stretch for forever- they numbered a thousand at least, composed of a variety of chickens and small teddy bears of various compositions.

“It’s 1048…” She was trembling, both with barely hidden rage and barely contained fear. “I had 1048 all along and all it wanted was fucking Siggy.”

Even as she watched, more and more bears were forming out of thin air all around the settlement, worsening their chances by the minute.

Of the bears, many were of the variants she was familiar with- As formed their frontline, covered in a multitude of ears in the shape of a bear. She knew what they were for. Bs seemed to be scattered amongst the As, their bellies full with infantile arms, hands and feet poking out from the fabric. Cs, the bears made purely out of rusted metal, seemed to form the bulk of their army, which did not bode well for their chances of survival.

The variants she didn’t know of seemed to compose nearly half the army, and were far more diverse. She saw giant bears made out of paper, skinless bears on all-fours that seemed to growl with barely held-in aggressiveness, bears that had large leathery wings that seemed to stretch far into the air, bears that seemed to be made purely out of teeth, and so many more- it was as if 1048 had gained the means to create an endless army of its twisted designs.

[...]

Lana turned back, watching as even more bears formed out of thin air, swelling their ranks by what must have been five hundred more.

[...]

The void was empty, yet full.

She crafted each bear according to his design, creating monsters tailor-made to burn and kill. The clay was pliable in her hand, and as she added enough to it to make it satisfactory, it disappeared.

Good. The bear said. Another instrument of your revenge.

Siggy looked at him. Just this way?

Yes. The bear said, its tone comforting. With your creation and my design, our enemies shall fall. I promise you that.

Alright, Siggy responded, molding another piece of clay in the shape of a bear. The clay felt warm and soft in her hands, like flesh. She gave it teeth, eyes, claws- a large and terrifying figure that would put a chill into anyone that came to face it. Alright.

When she completed the figure, she let it go, letting it vanish into the void once again to join its brothers on the ground.

[...]

That should be enough. The bear said. One thousand, three hundred and sixty-two warriors, ready to tear everything asunder. He looked at her. Are you ready, child?

Siggy stared back. Her eyes were vacant, yet enough of her was there. Yes.

***
The Attack Begins, and I Ascend